Begin To Breathe
by SilverStarsAndMoons
Summary: Will takes Quinn in when no one else will, and they fall into a routine that comforts Quinn in her time of need. When Will begins to fall in love with Emma, Quinn gets jealous and must learn to live with Emma in her life with Will. Eventual Will/Emma


In one whisper of someone else's voice, it was done. And Quinn was left standing in the choir room, watching the two boys who cared about her most, fighting and rolling on the dusty classroom floor while Ms. Pillsbury stood to the side and Will struggled to break them up.

What was the worst was that this was due to her – a breakup of a friendship; the loss of trust between Puck and Finn, and the loss of trust between Finn and her. She caused it, and she caused this mess, and it would have been so much easier to just get rid of the thing if she didn't know she'd burn in hell for it.

Maybe this is a different kind of hell. She certainly thinks so now.

Rachel finds her sitting beside the Glee trophy case and the warmth of her body beside Quinn's is strangely comforting. But Quinn has appearances to keep up, and she suddenly can't stand that this . . . girl . . . is empathizing with her when she has no idea what it's like to stand in Quinn's shoes. To have Problems, not issues of the sort that Quinn had herself only a few short months ago.

She orders her away as nicely as she can, but not before she catches the hurt look in the girl's brown eyes, and then she just feels worse.

Quinn's screwed up everything, and she has no one to blame but herself.

//~//

She really doesn't have a plan for her next move. She briefly considers taking one of the still-standing mattresses and bunking down in the choir room, but that idea's squelched when Mr. Schuester orders the mattress company to haul the mattresses back to the store. She's watching the delivery men take them away when Will comes into the choir room.

"Hey, Mr. Schuester," she says, and his face twists a little in sympathy. He comes over, stands beside her.

"Hey, Quinn." There's silence for a few minutes, then, "How's it going?"

With Mr. Schuester, it's almost impossible to lie. And Quinn's had a lot of practice keeping things from adults – she's really a good actress this way – but one tremble of her lower lip before she opens her mouth to deliver yet another lie betrays her, and he ends up pulling her against him, anyway.

It's inappropriate. She knows that it's against the law or something for teachers to hug students, but he smells so good, and his arms are so comforting, that she ends up sobbing against him for a couple of moments while she tries to pull herself back together.

"I just . . . I guess I just screwed it up. It's my fault. I get that," she rambles incoherently, but he just nods.

"Listen, Quinn, do you have a place to stay? I imagine that Finn's is out of the question, now?"

She doesn't question how he knows she was staying with Finn – he's close to Finn and Finn probably told him. She doesn't want to tell him that there's no way she can go back there, but she know he knows, anyway.

And Quinn just wants to go home – to her own room, her own bed. To the comfort of her mother's arms.

Will reaches out, wipes a tear from Quinn's face. "Do you need some money? Somewhere to sleep?"

"I can't go home," she gulps, and sniffles a bit disgustingly. He pulls a pack of Kleenex from his back pocket and appears to be considering something while she mops her face and wipes her running nose. Quinn watches Mr. Schue from under her eyelashes while he comes to a consensus with himself, and she knows exactly what he's about to stay.

"I have a spare bedroom. You can sleep at my place for a couple of nights while you talk to your parents. I just don't want to think of you at the Motel 6 down on Carlton," he says, and his mouth twists again, this time satirically.

She laughs, hearing the sound rusty on the air. She hasn't laughed for real in a long, long time.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue." She knows she should refuse, but there's no way Russell is letting her back in the house and she doesn't feel up to arguing with him on the front step. Her neighbourhood's a bit like Wisteria Lane and the gossip of her being kicked out will be all over the street the next day.

She hates her parents, but she doesn't hate them that much.

Will wraps an arm around her shoulder and she leans into him again, feeling safe. It's only for a few days, after all.

//~//

The day she comes to his place, it's raining hard, and he has to help her over the puddles because the soles of her shoes tend to slip on the rainy pavement. She clings to his arm and stares straight ahead, daring anyone to make any sound about this – daring anyone to make a comment. She almost doesn't care so much about who sees her as much as she does about what they'll say. And she doesn't like that Will keeps shooting nervous looks around, as if he's worried that someone will see him touching a sixteen-year-old girl, let alone taking her home.

They arrive home and she stands awkwardly in the doorway while he moves her bag inside and helps her off with her coat. She really has to pee, but isn't sure how to articulate that to Will without actually coming right out to say it. Luckily, he smiles at her reassuringly.

"I'm sure you'll want to rest; it's been a pretty emotional day," he says, his voice warm. "Your room is here," and he points out what used to be the craft room, now plain-walled and with a futon as the main focal point. She smiles wanly, putting her bag on the bed and twisting her hands a little.

He points out the bathroom, and she immediately makes a beeline for it, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Sorry, Mr. Schue, I just . . . it's been awhile."

He throws up his hands, chuckling. "Don't let me stand in your way."

When she's finished, he calls her name from the kitchen and she pads in on her bare feet, listening to them stick slightly on the ceramic tile, to find him chopping vegetables at the counter.

"I don't know if you're hungry," he begins, "but I figured maybe we'd just keep it light tonight. I can make you some soup, maybe, or just a salad?"

Quinn opens her mouth to reply, but finds herself suddenly sitting on the floor, her hands over her face, and Mr. Schuester's warm hands on her shoulders.

"Okay, shh . . . it's okay, Quinn." He guides her to the couch and she curls up in his arms, lying like a child on his chest and trying to get a hold on her feelings. It's not so much that the mention of supper is upsetting; it's just that she feels like she can't make any decisions right now because she doesn't even know who she is.

What's interesting is that he knows – he strokes her soft hair; he rubs her back, and he holds her until she feels ready enough to sit up, wipe her face, and try to smile.

"A salad sounds great, Mr. Schue."

They eat across the table from each other, and she makes small talk, much like she's seen her mother do on awkward nights at the Fabray dinner table. She's used to trying to find something to talk about that's not going to be offensive to listen to, and so she asks him about his classes, and he asks her about how she's handling sophomore year, and it gets too strange, so despite her growling stomach, she ends up excusing herself.

He doesn't look surprised when she retires to the converted craft room, but after hearing her struggling to pull out the futon, he comes into the room and helps her set it up smoothly. Meeting her eyes, he smiles, a bit awkwardly himself.

"I know this is going to be a little strange . . . but I hope you feel comfortable here, Quinn. I just want you to think of this as your home for as long as you're here."

Again, she can't think of anything else to do, so she smiles, shrugs her shoulders, and becomes the polite young woman her parents raised her to be.

"Thanks again, Mr. Schue."

//~//

She fast learns that he's not much of a cook, nor does he clean very well. The fourth day of her finding a pair of his dirty underwear behind the door in the bathroom (she imagines that he just forgets that he drops it there, like most men; however, she feels weird showering with a pair of her teacher's boxers staring at her from behind the shower curtain), she starts showering at night, right after whatever stupid TV show he finds for them to watch ends.

She starts arriving home before he does; he gives her a spare key and on days that she's home first, she makes sure she starts something, even if it's as simple as a frozen casserole or a can of soup. He always thanks her, but on days that he gets home first, she always finds takeout on the table and she fast learns he appreciates her simple efforts.

Saturdays, she cleans the house. It's as simple as running the vacuum around and making sure both bathrooms are clean, but she notices that he falls into the routine easily, without even having to be asked. Afterwards, he reads the newspaper or watches sports on TV with a bottle of beer, and she lies on her bed and listens to her iPod, and the afternoon is quiet until he knocks on her door, his eyes travelling over her slight baby bump, and asks her what she wants for dinner.

She doesn't throw up as much, now that it's nearing the end of the first trimester, but on nights when she's hunched over the toilet, she hears him moving restlessly in the bedroom adjoining and thinks that he really didn't understand what he was getting into, taking her in.

He starts leaving a glass of water on the counter in the evenings before he turns off the lights. A few weeks into her stay, he starts knocking on her door to say goodnight.

She starts to fall into the rhythm of living in Mr. Schue's house, where the show tunes never stop playing, the sports roar on the TV on weekends and the takeout menus line the counters and she starts to wonder about different families.

She thinks she may like this family better than her own.

//~//

Ms. Pillsbury's always in the background, but she doesn't start showing up until after Sectionals. Quinn, now ensconced as a member of the decimated Schuester household, begins to notice Will closing the door to his room more and more to speak to Emma on the phone.

He starts avoiding dinner, forgetting to leave notes, and her unconsciously possessive hold on him begins to deepen. She confronts him as he walks in the door one day.

"Will, where were you?" He had told her she could call him Will a few weeks before, and for the first time, he looks like he regrets that decision. She's aware of how she must look – rumpled from school and cooking, her hair slightly messy, and her ankles beginning to swell from her newly rounded belly. He winces at her tone, but answers her evenly.

"Well, Quinn, if you hadn't skipped Glee today, I could have given you a ride home, but as it was, I was helping Ms. Pillsbury with the SAT prep she has tonight."

"Well, you could have called," she snaps, banging the silverware on the table. "I did make dinner; now it's probably dried out."

He blinks slowly, like he has a headache, and she feels bad. Uncharacteristically, she looks down at her hands. "Sorry."

"That was inappropriate, Quinn." His tone is hurt, but he tries to smile. "But you're right, I should have called. I'm sorry," he says, dropping his briefcase on the floor and coming to the table. "I'm going to meet her for coffee later, so I'm not really up for dinner."

Quinn feels like crying. It's probably the hormones. She puts a hand on her belly, sits down, defeated in her chair, and sighs.

"Fine."

"Look, tomorrow, I'll make dinner, okay?" He runs a hand over her blonde hair, coming up behind her. "You've got to be tired. Try to go to bed early. I'll be home later. Don't forget to tape American Idol for me."

She watches him disappear into the bedroom and frowns. It's not that she cares that he's going to see Ms. Pillsbury. She doesn't even really care that he doesn't want to eat.

Quinn has come to realize that she depends on the little things – the small interactions, the way he proves that he cares about her.

That's what she cares about – and what she's afraid to lose.


End file.
